


Ratty Towels

by tatooedlaura



Series: Life, Part 3 [5]
Category: The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-03-09 00:36:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13469976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatooedlaura/pseuds/tatooedlaura
Summary: Landing one last kiss on her forehead, he sat up, “where did we stash those ratty towels?”Scully stretched across the mattress, contorting as muscles waxed and waned, “possibly in the box marked ‘ratty towels’ or the box marked ‘stuff’.”





	Ratty Towels

Dropping to their new mattress, stiff and soft at the same time, Scully commented on it, setting Mulder to leer, licking his lips unseductively and wiggling his hips in a pseudo-come hither type way, which just made her laugh until her cheeks hurt at the absurdness of his pathetic attempts to get her naked.

She complied however, breaking their bedroom staple in in slightly louder than normal fashion, headboard banging the shared wall only once, sheets tugged but not actually dislodged as occasionally happened. When they’d cooled off, chuckled subsiding at the wild mess Scully’s hair had become, Mulder kissed her long and languid, “so, when do we get to do this in the living room?”

“Just as soon as we get some curtains. The neighbors may get to hear us but I don’t need them seeing us.”

Landing one last kiss on her forehead, he sat up, “where did we stash those ratty towels?”

Scully stretched across the mattress, contorting as muscles waxed and waned, “possibly in the box marked ‘ratty towels’ or the box marked ‘stuff’.”

“I carried in at least eight boxes marked ‘stuff’ … I think we marked almost all of them ‘stuff’.” Standing stark naked in the middle of the room, “maybe I’ll just take the shower and forget about the towels. I know where a bar of soap it.”

“How are you going to dry off?”

“Shake like a dog probably.”

He was about to demonstrate when Scully held up her hand, “please, don’t. I will find you a towel and bring it to you, all right? Just don’t … shake anything.”

Mulder shook anyways, just for her, to demonstrate how it was done but she didn’t see, already knowing what was coming and having hid her head under the pillow. Next thing she knew, his voice was beside her ear, carrying through pillowcase, “I think I pulled a muscle.”

“Oh, God … which muscle?”

“The fun one.”

She couldn’t help it. Her laughter shook the bed, jiggling butt and heaving shoulders, until Mulder lightly smacked the back of her thigh, “just kidding although I now see after all these years your sympathy for me has diminished slightly. Good to know.”

Reaching out blindly, she found his kneecap and squeezed, “I love you and all your shaking parts, Mulder.”

“Thanks.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&

They had everything in the apartment but nothing seriously unpacked, that would be tomorrow’s job. Right now, however, she was roaming, wandering slowly, serpentinely, around the place in the nightlight lit darkness, shadows large and small, unfamiliar. Noises unrecognized, thumps and sighs, rattles and clicks, she inspected each one with a curiosity born from a scientific mind. Mulder would suspect intruders, aliens, ghost cats; Scully jumped to the mundane conclusion that the ice maker in the fridge was dripping, the hot water tank groaning, the thermostat ticking.

After her inquisitiveness ran the gamut, she felt a pull to the spare room, boxes against the wall, empty bookshelves staring at her, gaping dark, bedframe propped on wall with mattress tilted, patient for sheets, quilt, pillows and people.

Mulder, even in deep sleep knowing when she wasn’t beside him, figured groggily on her being in the bathroom but after what he considered an extraordinary length of time in the bathroom, and he had some stretches in there, believe you me, he rolled and slid out of their bed, hitting feet to strange carpet with a muffled thud. Twisting his shorts straight as he shuffled to the hallway, he heard her …

Covered snuffles and damp inhales.

Heart led him directly to the other bedroom, spying her sitting against the wall, knees folded up, head against the newly painted wall. Without a word, he quietly settled, wondering, just for a moment, if he’d be better to leave her alone, let her sort out her soul before barging into her mind.

Then she slipped sideways and rested her head on his shoulder, grounding him for life and longer to that spot, sharing warmth as well as the idea that this room would never be for anyone more than guests. Never their baby, never their child, never her tea set and his blocks, never her beat-up teddy bear or his rag-tag blanket, never part Scully, part Mulder, all fiery temper and unquenchable wonder.

They sat in there for over an hour, quiet heavy but manageable until Scully took a deep breath, gave his thigh a run with her palm before gripping it lightly, “we should go back to bed. We’ve got a lot to do tomorrow.”

Instead of moving, he held her in place, talking through her hair, lips catching strands as he told her, in no uncertain terms, slow and savoury, to make sure she understood the depth of his next words, “I … love … you.”

And oddly, as much as she knew it, the delivery, the setting, the warm pouring off him, made her heart untwist, her next deep breath flowing easier than the last, “I love you, too.”

He let her go so she could stand and holding out his hand, allowed her to heft him up, smiling by the time he went vertical, “can I take you out to breakfast?”

“It’s 3:17 in the morning, give or take ten minutes.”

“Yeah. Can I take you out to breakfast?”

She stared, her head tilting to an adorable angle to match his, “can I get a milkshake with my pancakes?”

“You can totally get a milkshake to go with your pancakes.”

“Do I have to put on real clothes?”

“Do you want to go to the diner in your pajamas pants?”

Looking down at her vibrant solar system cotton and paint splattered t-shirt, “are we going to Eduardo’s or Vic’s?”

“Oh, most definitely Vic’s.”

“Then no, I don’t need to change.” Ready to frog march him out the door, she manhandled his sides to get him moving, “you’re driving.”

“Of course.”


End file.
